


vespa ilkay and the plan that no one else was supposed to know about

by looketh_its_brooketh



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Music, Other, happy birthday ms aurinko, jet siquliak is a king, just a lil bit of angst (it helps with the bonding), song fic? kinda?, vespa and nureyev/ransom bonding, vespa-centric bc she deserves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looketh_its_brooketh/pseuds/looketh_its_brooketh
Summary: Vespa Ilkay wants to get Buddy the perfect birthday present--and she wants to do it by herself. Somehow, four other people get involved. And one of them is Peter Ransom.
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita & Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay & Jet Sikuliaq, Vespa Ilkay & Peter Nureyev
Comments: 30
Kudos: 74





	1. jet siquliak is ruining my life (but i still listen to him for some reason)

Vespa Ilkay has been through some unprecedented shit in her life, but she never thought it would come to this. No matter how many times a heist went wrong or Dark Matters got the crew cornered, there were just things on the Carte Blanche that she could count on to be sacred and unchanging.

Which makes it all the more disturbing that she now finds herself leading an Aurinko Family Meeting.

She’d had a plan. It was a good one, too—simple and efficient. Plus, it only involved the two people on the Carte Blanche she trusted the most—Jet Siquliak and Vespa herself.

Unfortunately, that was not going to work out.

\-----

“Come on, Siquliak, can’t it wait?”

“It cannot. The repairs to the Carte Blanche’s fuel valves must be replaced as soon as possible, or we will be unable to leave the Cerberus Province on schedule.”

“I promise, we’ll be in and out—it’ll be quick. Please, Siquliak.”

“I’m sorry, Vespa, but I cannot accompany you on your mission.”

“Come on! I’d do it myself, but I need the Ruby-7 to get there, and you’re the only one who can really drive it.”

Jet still didn’t look up from his work. “Ransom has driven the Ruby before.”

Vespa crossed her arms. “Ha, ha, very funny. I’m not taking the thief with me.”

“It was not a joke. Ransom has the most experience with the Ruby-7 out of anyone on the Carte Blanche—besides myself. If you need the car, I recommend you take him with you.”

“But—”

“He has also proven himself to be trustworthy. And even if he was not, you would be able to handle him.” The big guy finally had the decency to meet Vespa’s eyes. “I know that you do not like to ask for assistance Vespa, so I understand that this must be very important to you. I am truly sorry I cannot help.”

Siquliak never lies—that’s why she trusts him more than anyone else on this ship. More than even Buddy—more than even herself. She sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find another job for you or something, if you really want to be involved.”

“That would be wonderful. And Vespa?” he called after her, making her pause in the doorway. “I would also recommend taking Juno with you. To keep Ransom focused elsewhere.”

“…Was that a joke?”

“No.”

Vespa groaned. “You’re gonna kill me, Siquliak.”

He had the nerve to smile that small, Jet smile as she left.

\-----

She likes to think that maybe, just maybe, it could have ended there—that she could have modified her plan just a little bit so that she wouldn’t have to bring anyone else into it. But, deep down, she knows that she won’t be able to handle that stupid car. The thing has almost started to take on a life of its own; it creeps her out.

So, yeah. She kind of needs Peter Ransom. Which means she needs Steel, too.

Vespa has never been one for organization, anyway. And the more people involved in a heist, the more she needs to plan, and the more people she needs to discuss the plan with, and the more people she needs to discuss the plan with, the more fed up she’ll get, because she knows damn well that Steel’s going to have _questions_ , and Ransom’s going to have _ideas_ , and, well—it’ll just better to get it all over with at once.

Which is why she is currently pacing at the head of the dining table, much to the confusion of all of the members of the Aurinko Crime Family except Jet. And Buddy. Who isn’t aware that this is happening. Obviously. 

After a few moments of awkward silence as Vespa racks her brain for some eloquent way to start this thing, Juno asks, “So…is Buddy coming anytime soon?”

“It is unlike the Captain to be late for a family meeting,” Ransom chimes in. He airily glances around the room, as if Buddy is just going to magically pop out of a cupboard. “Is she on her way, Vespa?”

“No.” 

Ransom’s generally cool expression stiffens, just a bit. “Oh.”

“Right.” Vespa sighs, steadying herself on the table. “Okay. I’ve got this plan—”

“Another heist?” Rita cries from her spot at the far end of the table, nearly smacking Steel across the face in her enthusiasm.

“—this _plan_ , and you all need to listen to me very carefully, because I’m only gonna tell you your assignments once.”

“So, let me get this straight—” Juno begins sarcastically.

“—hush, dear detective,” Ransom interrupts, placing his hand over Steel’s. “We don’t want to miss anything important.”

Vespa has no idea if he’s being serious. The words sound mocking, and she wants to leave it at that—arrogant, master thief Ransom—but she calms herself with the thought of Buddy and how much Vespa wants this to go well for her.

“Can you at least tell us what’s going on, Vespa?” Steel asks. “I’m sure I’ll be a lot more willing to be an involved member of this team I know what I’m getting myself into first.”

“Believe me, Steel, there is nothing I would love more than to just leave you on the ship while the adults handle the important things. Unfortunately,” she sighs, “I need you. I need all of you.”

“Aw, Miss Vespa!” Rita shrieks, tugging on the sleeve of Juno’s sweater, “that is so SWEET! Isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard, Mista Steel?”

“Ow! Yeah, yeah, it was nice. Whatever. I’m listening.” He’s smiling, though—ever so slightly. And for whatever reason, that makes Vespa feel a little bit more confident.

“Alright, alright, so here’s the situation—Buddy’s birthday is coming up, and there’s something special I want to get her while we’re here in the Cerberus Providence. I was _going_ to get it _myself_ , but _someone_ ,” she stops to pointedly look at Jet, who’s as serene as ever, “convinced me that I would need some help. So, this is what’s going to happen: thief, you’re coming with me. It’ll be a bit of a trip to get to where we’re going, and we need the Ruby-7.”

Ransom looks like he’s about to say something—to point out how vague she’s being, maybe—but, surprisingly, he just nods. He’s obviously focused (as he has been every time Buddy has explained a heist), and while she’s still not completely onboard with the idea, Vespa appreciates that she doesn’t need to spell out exactly why it has to be him.

“Hacker,” she turns to Rita, “you’re the distraction.”

She giggles. “Why, thank you!”

“… _You_ are going to keep Buddy from noticing we’re gone. Just spend time with her—I don’t know, watch a stream or something. It can be, like, an early birthday present. Just keep her distracted for a few hours. This shouldn’t take too long.”

“You can count on me!”

“If she asks where Ransom and I are, tell her we’re out getting fuel for the ship. That’ll be our cover story.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Juno cuts in. “Vespa, you said that you needed all of us for your plan.”

“Yeah.”

“But, you already have everyone you need—you and Ransom to get…whatever you’re getting, and Rita as the distraction.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it, Steel.”

“So…what are Jet and I supposed to do, then?”

Vespa tries to fight back a smile. She does it pretty successfully, she thinks. “You’re going to get the fuel for the ship.”

“…I thought that was our cover story.”

“It is. It’s not a lie, though—we actually need fuel, so that’s what you’ll be doing.” 

Steel slumps down in his chair. “Great,” he mutters as Ransom drapes a comforting hand around his shoulder (the thief seems to be trying to hold back his own laughter). “Very exciting.”

“Not exciting,” Vespa admits, “but necessary.”

“And what’ll Jet be doing, haggling with the fuel salesman for a lower price?”

“That would be dumb. No, Jet has a special job for when we get back.”

The meeting seems to be at a good ending point. Vespa has no idea how the hell Buddy manages real, life-or-death ones. 

“Okay,” she says. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Don’t be late, or Steel’s not gonna be the only unhappy one around here.”


	2. so I guess we just unlocked your tragic backstory. oops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, dealing with Ransom is the hardest part of Vespa's day--just not for the reasons she thinks it will be.

TW: brief mentions of Mag and Vespa's father

\---

“Three baskets? Really?”

“Just how many fuel cells do you think a spaceship needs to run, Steel?” Vespa asks him, crossing her arms.

“Um…a lot?”

“Exactly. A lot.”

“Okay, but isn’t three baskets kind of excessive?” Juno is currently struggling to balance the said three containers he’s supposed to be taking to the local marketplace. “I mean, how am I supposed to carry all of these?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Better get going, though—the market closes at sundown.”

“ _What_?”

Next to Vespa, Peter Ransom adjusts his facemask—a necessity in the toxic atmosphere of the Cerberus Province. He, Juno, and Vespa are dressed similarly in all black from head to toe, including leathery gloves and boots that should protect from the heat. Vespa hopes that the outfits will be enough to allow the two of them to blend in; after all, she’s not exactly unheard of around here and Ransom’s the goddamn famed ‘thief with no name’. Steel should be fine—as far as Vespa knows, the lady hasn’t won any notable awards for his detective work. “Don’t worry, my love,” Ransom tells Steel, his voice slightly muffled by the mask, “Vespa and I have confidence in your shopping ability. We’ll all be back on the Carte Blanche in no time, I’m sure of it.”

Juno rolls his eyes, but still manages to look fondly at Ransom while he does it. Vespa grunts. “Come on, thief, we need to get going, too.”

“Of course. See you soon, dear detective.”

“Bye, honey.” They watch as Juno heads off towards the marketplace, muttering curses as he balances the three metal containers as carefully as he can. He’ll be able to handle it. Most likely. 

“Where to?” Ransom asks when they return to their places in the Ruby-7. How he’s so eager on every mission, Vespa has no idea. It’s annoying--and one of the many reasons he’s the last person Vespa wanted to bring along. She has to admit, though—Jet was right. Ransom handles the car like he was born to drive it, every turn on the bumpy Martian desert smooth and obviously calculated. Even now, his gloved fingers are dusting over the steering wheel as if itching to get back on the road. Where did he learn to drive like that? Which is really a question you could ask about any of the guy’s skills. And that’s really what scares her about Ransom. She may groan at his sucking up, his memorization tactics, his need to always get in the last, perfect word. But really? It’s the fact that she doesn’t know a thing about him that makes it difficult for her to fall asleep at night; she knows enough about every other member of the crew to keep her from tossing and turning, but Ransom has always been to much of a mystery to keep her comfortable.

Buddy trusts him, and that should be enough. But, it’s not. And honestly? Vespa’s pretty sure it never will be. 

“The lighthouse,” she says, pointing west to where the building is visible over the dusty landscape. “Buddy’s old bar.”

\-----

Vespa tells Ransom to park behind the now abandoned building when they arrive, directly him towards a concealed alleyway.

“May I ask why?”

She rolls her eyes. There it is. “Because we’re part of organized crime, Ransom. And I like to avoid getting arrested as much as possible.”

“That does make sense.” 

Once the Ruby is hidden away from any prying eyes, Vespa presses a finger to her lips—absolute silence is key in any heist, even one as easy as this—and gestures to the roof. 

“Just follow me,” she mouths, and Ransom nods with far too much earnest enthusiasm.

They manage to make it inside without much difficulty. Vespa is pleased to find that the key to the hidden door behind the geometrically shaped shrub is still where it had always been—buried about an inch in the soil of the shrub’s pot—and even manages to guide Ransom through avoiding that creaky third stair. The hatch to the roof opens cleanly, and it’s then that she finally spots her prize. 

“A Music Machine?” Ransom asks a little too loudly, watching as Vespa sneaks over to where the device is mounted to the wall.

“Shh! Yes, it’s a Music Machine. Hey, no, stay over there,” she whispers harshly, stopping him in his tracks. “Just keep watch and let me work, okay?”

“But—”

“Ransom, I don’t have time for this.” She pulls out her knife and, after a brief onceover, starts hacking away at the cables holding the machine up. 

“Vespa—”

“Thief, I am _not_ going to tell you again—”

“Look!” He’s crouched down now and frantically gestures for her to do the same. She does so with an exaggerated eyeroll, following the line of Ransom’s now outstretched arm. There, across the street, are two possibly armed Dark Matters agents that seem to be looking right at them. Vespa’s not sure, but she thinks she might have almost made eye contact with the taller one on the left as she tried to follow Ransom’s lead. Yep, she definitely did, because now Left Agent is pointing right at them and now Right Agent is looking at the roof, and shit, they’re coming right for them. 

“Shit!”

“Vespa, we need to get back to the Ruby-7 as quickly as possible.”

“Calm down, I’m almost done. Shit, shit, shit!” It doesn’t really matter anymore, trying to hide from the guards—she and Ransom have already been seen—but if the Dark Matters agents have blasters, trying to keep cutting the wires at what is now a very difficult angle might prove to be the safer option.

“Vespa, we need to go!”

“Shut up, Ransom! There!” She cuts the last wire and the music machine falls free. There’s no time to wonder if she did any damage to it while removing it from the wall—Ransom’s right, they really need to get out of sight. She grabs his arm and drags him back down the stairs, turns a corner, and then drags him down two more flights.

“Please tell me you have a plan,” Ransom hisses, although continues to allow her to pull him along.

“There’s a spare room down here—a storeroom. We can stay in here until those two are gone—”

“—and hope that they didn’t take our car,” Ransom finishes.

Vespa ignores him. “Here!” She throws open a solid metal door hidden by the darkness of the unlit basement. She pushes Ransom inside, follows him, and then eases the door shut, locking it gingerly. 

“A back room,” Ransom notes. “A shelter from the radiation, perhaps?”

“It’s for storing liquor. This is a bar.”

“Ah. So when you said ‘storeroom’, you really meant ‘storeroom’.”

“Sure, Ransom.”

“How long should we be planning to stay down here, do you think?”

Vespa sighs. Maybe it’s the other way around; Ransom seems to be the one who can’t stop picking apart every detail of their situation. “It all depends on Steel. Those agents out there should be gone soon—low-level crime’s pretty common around here, so Dark Matters doesn’t send their highest-level agents to keep tabs on things.”

“But?”

“But, if it turns out they are dangerous and are stuck on our tails, then we’ll know by the time we pick up Juno. I told him to call us when he’s done.”

“I see.” He doesn’t appear to be listening very hard; Ransom is wandering around the room, examining every angle in that light, not-a-care-in-the-world way he has, his slim silhouette a twisted reflection on every metallic surface. Okay, so maybe it does kind of look like a bunker. “Does this room happen to be soundproof?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if we’re stuck here for the time being.” At Vespa’s blank expression, he explains, “We might as well make sure the machine works.” 

“Ha. Good luck with that. Pretty sure I busted it. Not that it matters anyway; I’ve never been able to work with Earth junk. And it’s not like we have the materials to fix it on the ship.”

But apparently her very realistic points aren’t worth anything, because the master thief has already turned his focus to the machine’s upper keypad, typing sporadically and muttering under his breath.

“What the hell—you know how to work this thing? How?”

“My father taught me a lot about Earth culture when I was younger,” Ransom explains, not turning his attention away from his work. “Especially its music. He had a machine just like this one, and I watched him fiddle around with it for so long that eventually, I fell just as much in love with it as he had. He began to teach me the languages necessary to program the machine to play certain songs—mostly ones to play on my, ah, instrument.”

“Did he teach you that, too? How to play?”

“That he did. He taught me almost every skill I know.”

Vespa kicks at a stray piece of rubble on the floor. “Sounds like a great guy.”

“Well, we’ll see,” Ransom replies. “Hopefully his lessons stuck enough for me to be able to work this thing. Ah, here we are!” Ransom presses one final button—a large one right in the center—with a flourish and steps away from the Music Machine. Almost immediately, the screen lights up, and after a second or two of static, something that definitely sounds like music begins to fill the small space of the back room.

“You did it,” Vespa says. She didn’t even realize that her mouth was hanging open. She closes it. “Holy shit, Ransom, you made it work.” God. If he does anything else spectacular today she might have to stab him herself.

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” Ransom assures her, although the toothy grin that is now filling his face says otherwise. “I’m sure you could have figured it out had I given you the chance…” He’s back to the machine now, adjusting buttons, pulling tiny levers, until what is now clearly a song grows loud enough to be understood.

_It’s not time to make a change  
Just relax, take it easy  
You’re still young, that’s your fault  
There’s so much you have to know_

“Earth music?”

He nods. “This was my father’s favorite song. Besides the songs I would play for him, of course—he always assured me of that. He played it all the time, I almost got sick of it.” He doesn’t seem to be sick of it now, though—in fact, it’s the most at peace Vespa’s ever seen him, apart from when he’s with Juno: sitting on the grimy floor, long limbs outstretched, eyes distant, a soft smile on his lips as he sways ever so slightly along to the beat. There’s something almost endearing about him in this moment, this softer Ransom. And then it hits her—it’s almost exactly how Buddy used to look back in the old days when her bar was at its peak. 

Which is maybe why she finds herself saying, “Bud’s into that kinda stuff, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Especially the old Earth stuff—hundreds, thousands of years old. When we really started spending time together, I’d come around the bar and this thing was always playing.” She flicks a piece of dust off the top of the machine. 

“I’m not surprised. The Captain does seem like one to have good taste in music.” 

And that’s where the conversation falls flat. Ransom’s still just sitting there, totally engrossed in whatever song is coming from the machine, and Vespa’s thinking about the old days—good and bad. The first time she saw Buddy, the long nights they spent in each other’s arms, Bud’s flaming hair illuminated by candlelight as they twirled to songs Vespa had never heard before but quickly learned to love. But also—fathers. Men who teach you everything they know, who see who you are and try to give as much of the world to you as they can. That’s how a father is supposed to be, and apparently Ransom hit the jackpot. Sneaky, prodigy, fox-faced Ransom, raised to perfection by the perfect dad. It dawns on her, then—this is the most the thief has ever talked about himself, about his past. He’s always been so careful about keeping his personal life close that she hadn’t even noticed—but she can’t think about that right now, because a quiet sniffle shakes her out of her racing mind. 

It only takes a glance to know that the sound came from Ransom, but Vespa double takes anyway, because shit, is he crying? 

He is. He’s hiding it skillfully, she has to admit—ever so slightly turning away from her, long fingers swiping at his eyes in a way that could easily be played off as scratching an itch. But as she looks on, things just get worse; Ransom is shaking ever so slightly, quiet sniffs becoming more frequent. Vespa shifts uncomfortably. She’s never seen him like this—and she does not like it. “Um, Ransom?”

“Hm?” He brushes frantically at his face as he turns to face her, that trademark smile plastered back on his face. “Is something the matter?”

“What’s up? Is—is something…wrong?”

“Oh! No, of course not. It’s very dusty in here. I must have got something in my eye.”

“Ransom—”

“I’m fine, Vespa, really,” he says shortly. 

The song continues to play, underscoring whatever is happening right now.

_From the moment I could talk  
I was ordered to listen  
Now there’s a way  
And I know that I have to go away_

He’s not fine. Tears are welling up in his eyes again, and damnit, Vespa knows she needs to do something because for some reason, this is killing her. 

“Ransom.” He doesn’t answer, just continues to sit there, back turned, motionless except for the now violent shaking of his body. “ _Ransom_.” Still nothing. “Hey. Hey!” She doesn’t know what else to do, so she presses the big button on the Music Machine. The song, miraculously, stops. 

“Look, Ransom,” she sighs, “you can tell me that you’re fine all you like. But you’re obviously not, and we’re a family, Buddy always says so and I—I guess I’ve started to believe it, too and—I think we really need to talk about this.” 

Finally, she gets a response: he slowly turns around to face her. His eyes are red under his glasses, pale skin streaked with tear tracks, dark hair hanging limply in his face. “I don’t think I can do that.” 

“Well, you really need to. Because I can’t just sit here while you—you keep all this—I don’t know, this _hurt_ inside you.” She runs a hand through her hair. “It’s not healthy. I should know.”

“What do you mean?”

She almost laughs. “Oh, come on, Ransom. You think I’ve worked my way through all the shit I’ve been through in my life? That I’ve brought it up with the people I care about, even asked for help? Maybe I’ve tried, sometimes, but it’s hard. I’m still working on it.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just removes his glasses to rub at his eyes and sits there. 

“Here. How about I tell you something personal about me, and then you’ll tell me what’s up with you. So we’ll both be uncomfortable. Deal?”

Ransom hesitates, but nods.

“Okay. Uh, let’s see.” She tries to think of something to say—something personal enough to draw out whatever it is that’s broken down Ransom (what the hell could have done that?), but not deep enough to do any damage. He’s still Ransom, after all. “I—I could tell you why I’m getting this for Bud. Why it’s so important.”

He nods again, ignoring her pathetic phrasing.

“I already told you that Bud’s always loved music. So when they came out with these Music Machines, she was so excited. She saved up a fortune, because they’re pretty damn expensive, that’s why we’re stealing this one, and when she finally was able to get her hands on one, she did so much research to figure out how to work it. The thing is, the only stations she was ever able to access were ones playing super old songs from Earth. She didn’t care, though. Bud’s always been like that—content with making the most of things.” Vespa idly traces the tip of her finger over the side of the boxy machine. “I guess I didn’t really get it at first—I don’t know, music had never really been that important to me. But, seeing how happy Buddy was, the way her eyes would light up whenever a song came on that she immediately fell in love with—it just made me fall more and more in love with her. 

The thing is, Buddy never had a favorite song. I always found that kinda weird—like, if you care about something so much, how can you not find a part of it that really sticks with you, you know? She had this notebook full of song titles that she’d write down whenever she found one that she really liked, but she never had one she liked more than all the others. Until this one day. It must’ve been, I don’t know, maybe two or three months after we got separated. Bud’s told me the story about a hundred times. It was late, and she was closing up the bar, and the sun was going down, and this song came on and it just—” Vespa shakes her head. It’s hard to keep going, but she glances at Ransom and he looks calmer than he has been all day, so she knows she has to. “She said that it reminded her of us. And she knew—she just knew that that was the song. No matter what she’d heard before or would ever hear again, that song would be her favorite.” She laughs to herself, feeling the uncontrollable prick of tears. “Bud listened to that song every single day until we found each other again. Imagine that. Every single day.” 

“That’s—that’s lovely.”

“I love her, Ransom. God. I really love her.” Vespa clears her throat, swiping at her eyes (apparently crying is contagious in here). “So, yeah. That’s why I wanted to get her this. To play her that song. I think it’ll be different, hearing it together. Like a happy ending.” She turns to the man beside her. “Okay, I think that’s enough from me. Your turn.”

The thief sighs, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Yes. Fair is fair. I don’t think my tale will be as enjoyable to hear as yours was.” He doesn’t meet Vespa’s eyes as he begins. “It’s not even a tale, really. It’s just—that song we were listening to earlier. It just reminded me of—things I don’t like to talk about. Near the end, Ma—my father and I didn’t have the best relationship. Hearing that song just reminded me of that, I suppose.” He blinks rapidly, his lashes dark. “When we—fell out of touch, I started to hate him. Sometimes I still do. And then I feel dreadful for feeling that way. I mean, he raised me, and although things might not have been great near the end, should I just erase all the good in favor of the bad?” His voice breaks. “Do I even have the authority to do that?” 

Vespa can’t bring herself to look at him. She places an awkward hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know. I wish I did. But, Ransom,” she pauses, trying to get this right, because God, this is what she’s been thinking over for years, “I don’t think it makes you a bad person to be angry with people that’ve hurt you. Sometimes it’s just better to get out of there and—move on.”

“I hate feeling guilty.” He laughs humorously. “That must sound ridiculous.”

“It doesn’t.” She takes her glove and rips off a piece of the already torn leather and hands it to Ransom, who wipes at his now very wet face with it. “Dads are the worst, huh.”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “They can be.”

“That’s some heavy shit, Ransom.” She finds herself rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder. It’s what Buddy always does whenever Vespa feels anxious or frustrated.

“Well, New Kinshasa certainly knew how to leave a mark on its people.” Without meaning to, Vespa freezes, her hand stopping on Ransom’s now tense shoulder. Well, one thing’s clear—that song must’ve left an even bigger mark on the thief’s psyche than he could ever let on, because that is one of the biggest possible bombs he could have dropped. And he did it by accident. Her instincts are kicking in; she wants to trap this information, file it away with what Ransom has already shared about his father, the medical records she’s already stored away for safe keeping. She could find out something about this man—find out why he’s so secretive, so successful, so dangerous—thanks to that one little slip up. But, as quickly as these thoughts come, her stomach clenches with shame, and she knows that she can’t do that. 

“Vespa, I—”

“Do you think you could play the song I was talking about earlier? The one that Bud likes?” she cuts in. “Just—to see if it works. The machine, I mean.”

“O—of course.” She tells him the name of the song, and in almost no time at all, the song that Buddy has always said reminds her of the two of them is filling the room.

Vespa doesn’t even notice she’s crying again until she feels Ransom’s hand on her shoulder. They’ve switched places, somehow. 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” she asks, not really expecting an answer. What’s worse—knowing someone or being known? Is there even a difference?

“It’s beautiful,” he tells her. “I think Buddy’s going to love it.”

\-----

A quick (though very riled up) phone call from Juno later, the three of them are back in the Ruby-7. Just as Vespa had expected, Left Guard and Right Guard are nowhere to be seen as she and Ransom peek out into the dust-filled street. The car’s still there, too, and it seems almost happy to see Ransom. He’s at the wheel (of course), Vespa in shotgun, and Steel is nestled among the barrage of fuel cans he had purchased earlier. Vespa doesn’t have the heart to tell him that a single basket full of cells would have been enough. She’s still thinking about Ransom, and Buddy, and Ransom’s mysterious, prodigy asshole of a father who might still be on New Kinshasa to this day. 

The ride back to the Carte Blanche is silent apart from the backseat, where Juno is very emotionally recounting his adventures at the marketplace. Vespa isn’t really able to listen to the story—something about a woman with two tails and her very eloquently spoken dog? She keeps looking at Ransom, who looks as stoic as could be expected from someone who just almost two hours in a trip down a rocky memory lane. When they finally arrive at the ship, she’s comforted by how quickly he takes Juno’s hand, flashing him a genuine grin and throwing his head back in laughter as the ex-detective repeats one of the funnier parts of his misadventures, Steel laughing along with him.

Vespa almost mimes throwing up (a classic response to the couple acting like, well, a couple), but honestly? It’s a nice sight. So, maybe they’re off the hook this time.

Juno heads in first, off to deliver the much needed fuel to Siquliak. Before Vespa can follow him, Ransom silently motions her aside. 

He takes deep breath. “Vespa,” he begins, “I understand that we haven’t always been on the best terms. And I don’t know if our mission today will change anything between us, but I guess I’m just—well, I would appreciate if—” He’s staring at the ground, and Vespa’s not sure he’ll be able to finish.

“Your shit’s safe with me, Ransom.”

His eyes widen. “You—really?”

Looking into his sharp featured face, Vespa can’t help but think of the guy she saw in the back room of Buddy’s bar—someone hurt by a person he cared so deeply about, carrying around that pain and that guilt for reasons she might not understand. Someone living not only on talent and charm, but on anger and sadness and fear that is so powerful not even years and years of separation can make it go away. 

She sees herself in that part of Ransom. And maybe that’s all she needs to know.

“I won’t,” she promises. She smirks. “As long as you don’t expect me to act all nice to you now. I don’t think Steel could handle it.”

Ransom smiles. Finally. “Of course not. What would be the fun in that?” As Vespa turns to leave, he touches her wrist lightly. “Thank you, Vespa. Really.”

She nods, entering the ship with the Music Machine in tow. Everyone has things they wish they could leave in the past—things that they wish they could forget. There’s pain enough in that, Vespa decides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a quick fic. it was not supposed to be this long. i ended up writing this whole chapter in one day and it shows. but i think the angst turned out pretty well (sorry nureyev fans but at least he and vespa have something in common even though it's sad). kabert let these two be friends please i need them to get along. anyway thanks for reading pt. 2 pt. 3 should be much much shorter and have that good lesbian content bc you KNOW vesbud deserves it. ALSO you can find cat stevens' "father and son" and other lovely songs on my peter nureyev playlist (my spotify is brooke cousins) go listen to it. i have a vespa one to that i'll promote in the next chapter once i reveal what the vesbud song is hehe


	3. i changed my mind jet siquliak is a savior (alternately titled: wlw come get y'alls juice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past may be painful. But, the members of the Carte Blanche deserve a happy ending.

As it turns out, Jet Siquilak ends up getting the most important job of all—keeping everyone quiet. Vespa’s almost jealous; a free pass to tell people to shut up? She would never ask for anything ever again. But, fortunately for the members of the Carte Blanche, Vespa has handed off that privilege to Jet. And he’s good at it—which is a really great thing, given the fact that two of the five people that know about her surprise also happen to be nosier than a Venusian cat. 

It might not be such a good thing for Siqualiak, who has spent the previous night and half the morning shutting down a certain ex-detective and a certain hacker’s constant prying. 

“Come on, Vespa, I won’t tell Buddy what it is. I promise!” Juno sounds like a broken record at this point, having repeated this same phrase about a hundred times. That’s what it feels like, at least.

Then, like clockwork, comes Rita:

“Mista Steel! Don’t be rude!” She turns her attention away from scolding Steel to waggle her eyebrows at Vespa. “But I gotta know. Is it something… _romantic_?”

Vespa groans, so, _so_ close to slamming her head repeatedly into the dining room table. “Siqualiak. Do something. _Please_.”

Jet refills her mug with fresh coffee (in this moment, he is her favorite person on the ship) and takes a slow sip of his own. “Juno. Rita. Vespa’s present for Buddy is supposed to be a surprise, yes?”

They nod in unison—Juno with much less enthusiasm than Rita.

“And in order for it to remain a surprise to the Captain, it would be prudent for it to remain a surprise to us all.”

“But—”

“So, let’s not speak about it anymore.”

“In fact, maybe it would be best if we all left the room entirely,” Ransom says from the doorway. He looks a lot better than he did yesterday, Vespa notes. Less like someone who recently sobbed for a couple of hours in a radiation infected city. The skin under his eyes is darker than it usually is, and clothes wise, he looks just a little less put together than he normally does—but other than that, Ransom looks like Ransom. That’s good. 

“Oh, come on! Not you, too!” Juno groans as Ransom gently pulls him from his seat. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, as always, dearest. But you know how I love a good romantic moment.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Rita’s told me about all those rom-com streams you two watch.”

“Ohmygosh MISTA STEEL!” Rita interjects. “That reminds me, I have _got_ to tell you about the last stream Mista Ransom and I watched; I think you would really love it. There was this super smart astrophysicist and this super cool fashion designer, and they both walked into the same—”

“Ah, yes, I remember that one!” Ransom says. “I really do think you would enjoy it, my love; you see, the astrophysicist’s aunt’s brother turned out to be—”

“So, Ransom, was there any reason you decided to tell everyone to leave the room if you were just gonna strike up a conversation in here anyway?” Vespa asks pointedly. 

Ransom goes a little pink in the face. “Of course,” he says hurriedly. “I just wanted to inform you, Vespa, that the Captain is awake and should be arriving at any moment.”

“Which means?” Juno asks.

“Which means we should be leaving, dear detective.” Ransom presses a kiss to the lady’s forehead. He gives Vespa a wink over Steel’s head. “Come on, I’m sure we can make ourselves scarce for a few minutes.” 

“Just one really quick look at the present?” Juno protests over his shoulder as Ransom leads him out of the room.

“Nope,” Vespa says. “Maybe someday. When Jet, Ransom, and I are dead and there’s no one to stop you and Rita from getting into my business.”

Ransom laughs at that, and Juno can’t help but give him a fond smile as he and the thief leave the dining room. Rita follows soon after (thanks to some convincing from Jet), almost unable to contain her excitement. 

“You have to tell me all about how much Buddy likes her gift, Miss Vespa. I gotta know everything!” she says as Siqualiak gives her a gentle push towards the door. For his part, his ever so slightly smiling eyes meet Vespa’s and nods, and everything feels right in the world. With everyone out of the room (finally), Vespa is finally able to relax—as much as she can, given the circumstances. As soon as she sits back down to her coffee—the warmth of the cup in her hands grounds her—who should barge back in but Peter Ransom.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, swiftly moving around the room as if looking for something. “Just needed to grab—ah, here we are.” He picks up a small box from the kitchen counter that she now recognizes as pain medication. “The old leg wound is acting up again,” Ransom explains.

“Is it bad?” She is the ship’s resident doctor, after all.

“No, not terrible. Just a slight pain. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Ransom.”

“Yes?” He stops with his hand on the door handle.

“Thanks. For helping out yesterday. And for getting those knuckleheads out of here today.”

“You’re welcome. And good luck, by the way.”

“Pft. Luck. You think I need luck, Ransom?”

Is he smirking? He is, that little—

“And hey. Tell me if your leg gets any worse, okay?” She stares into the murky blackness of her coffee. “Or if you just—ever want to talk.”

“I will.” It might be Vespa’s imagination, but Ransom’s fox-like smirk seems like more of a smile as he exits the room a second time. Apparently, Jet’s happiness isn’t the only kind that can make her feel at ease, because seeing Ransom at almost his old self is—kind of a comfort? As soon as he shuts the door, Vespa hears soft footsteps padding down the hallway. Right on time. 

Buddy Aurinko enters the dining room looking like the sweetest ray of sunshine, her red hair in its bedhead state complimenting her yellow dressing gown. She’s beautiful. It makes Vespa realize just how long they’ve been apart—which really isn’t long at all, but when you’ve been separated for fifteen years, the time you spend with the one you love seems to move differently. 

“Good morning, my love,” Buddy says, pressing a soft kiss to Vespa’s cheek as she goes to get her own daily dose of coffee. 

“Happy birthday, Bud.” Will she like it? What if it makes her sad—cry, even? Vespa’s experienced too much sadness in the past few days, and if this occasion—the birthday of the loveliest woman she’s ever met—turns out badly in any way, she doesn’t know what she’ll do—

“You remembered. How sweet,” Buddy says teasingly. Have her eyes always been that deep, intoxicating brown, her voice that comforting and perfect to listen to? And just like that, all of her worries about what lies ahead vanish. Being around Buddy is just like that.

“I did. And—” she pauses to take Buddy’s hand and lightly kiss her knuckles—“I even got you a present.”

“You’re too kind, darling, really.”

“I think you’re really gonna like it.”

“I know I am.”

The moment of truth. It’s a bit of a struggle to set the Music Machine on the dining table—it’s as heavy as it looks, which is very—but Buddy’s lit up face is worth every muscle it takes. 

“Darling, I—it’s—oh, I’ve missed it so much!” She can’t keep her hands off of the thing, running soft fingers over buttons and smooth surfaces. Who needs fuel for the ship with the power in a smile like that?

“It’s the one from your bar, Bud,” Vespa tells her.

“It is. My Music Machine…” She turns to Vespa and takes both of her hands. Her grin is infectious and Vespa knows she’s wearing a matching one. “How did you ever come across it, my love?”

“Well, the idea was mine. But, I did have some help.” The sound of giggling followed by some very intense shushing comes from somewhere down the hallway.

Something seems to dawn on Buddy. “Is that why Rita insisted we watch the entire _Land Pirates from Neptune_ saga yesterday?”

“Maybe.”

“She kept me distracted.” Buddy lets go of Vespa’s right hand to tick this off. “Juno bought the fuel for the ship—I heard all about that part, believe me--Jet was here all day, so that leaves—” Her eyes widen. “ _Ransom_!”

“Can’t keep anything from you, huh.”

“Pete helped you get my Music Machine! Did everything go alright?” she asks, eyes suddenly concerned. “I know he isn’t by any means your favorite person, darling, but you shouldn’t bring worry upon yourself just to do something kind for me.”

“It—actually went alright,” Vespa admits. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. But—I don’t know. I—I think I can be a little less stressed out about him all the time now.”

“Well, I’m very glad about that. But I hope you know that I would take your comfort over some fancy present any day of the week.”

“I know. But I wanted to get you this. And—there’s something else.” Here it is—the big, rom-com moment that she’s very glad Ransom and Rita aren’t here to witness. She’s excited. She also feels like she’s about to throw up. Vespa presses a few keys on the keypad in an order she memorized from Ransom’s countless demonstrations. Soft guitar begins to play.

_We’ll meet again,  
Don’t know where, don’t know when,  
But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day._

And Buddy is crying, but she’s smiling, too. It’s okay. It’s all okay.

“Dance with me, Bud?”

“I would be honored.”

The bright lights of the dining room seem to fade away as they sway back and forth in each other’s arms. It’s warm and it’s gentle and to Vespa, it feels like home as she holds the woman in front of her. 

“I listened to this song everyday when we were apart.”

“I know.”

Buddy laughs wetly. “Of course, you do. You know everything about me.” 

“So…” Vespa takes a breath. “Do you like it? Your present?”

Buddy pulls Vespa closer. She smells like cinnamon and something that Vespa can’t place but loves anyway. “My heart, I love it.” She kisses Vespa, and it’s a good thing they’re holding each other up, because Vespa’s pretty sure she could melt from a kiss like that. “I love you, my darling.”

“I love you, too, Bud. Happy birthday.”

_Keep smiling through,  
Just like you always do,  
And the blue skies chase the gray skies far away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE FIRST FIC I HAVE EVER COMPLETED YAY. ugh this chapter was so much fun to write words cannot express my love for vespa ilkay and buddy aurinko (and juno and rita and JET). so yep the (canon) vesbud song is "we'll meet again" by she & him; it can be found on my lovely vespa ilkay playlist (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2F0Q9KgKmhsoxlG35hDADM?si=cBPT_plHTY-tEdTsapMlBg). also not to shamelessly promote my spotify but you should definitely go check out my spotify!! not only do i have exceptional taste in music, i also have great playlists for tpp characters (so far we have my love vespa, nureyev, buddy, MICK MERCURY MY LOVE, and in progress ones for juno and sasha). anyway thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> first of all, i love ms. vespa ilkay and i hope that shows. actually, that might be it. she and jet are so much fun to write!! anyway, hope you enjoy this--all of the promised angst and bonding are coming soon >:) also HAPPY (actual) BIRTHDAY JUNO STEEL!!


End file.
